


xxvii. glass

by icymapletree



Series: febuwhump/febufluff 2020 [13]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Febuwhump, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icymapletree/pseuds/icymapletree
Summary: His hands are shaking, the world is spinning. He goes to grab the desk, to steady himself - but if he did, the desk would be turned to splinters. Anxiety makes his head rush, and there’s nowhere for that energy to go.He’s steering the ship with Mr. Stark, crashing through the stars. His stomach lurches-- until he feels a grounding hand placed over his own.Peter looks toward where the hand came from, and finds MJ staring back at him.“You were floating,” she whispers.Peter swallows and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: febuwhump/febufluff 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618837
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	xxvii. glass

Peter’s come to realize that no one wants to leave him alone with the thoughts in his head. They worry he’ll do something _erratic_ or something _drastic_ , because he’s been broken one too many times. 

With his parents, there were silent tears in kindergarten class. He’d be happy and _okay_ \- until one too many reminders of his life before came along. 

Uncle Ben didn’t know what to do with Peter’s grief, he was grieving himself and also coming to accept that he and May were going to raise Peter without the help of his beloved brother.

May tried her best in her first years of raising him, but she didn’t really become his mom until he was a little bit older. Ben never tried to be Peter’s father since he was weary of replacing his brother, but that didn’t change the way Peter felt about him. Ben was always _like_ a dad, yet one hundred percent his parent.

When Ben was shot, it was like whatever force is up above was taking a chisel to his still healing wounds. 

Tony never tried to be his father either, but he easily slid into that role in Peter’s life, just like Ben. Losing him is the final nail in the coffin, the moment that leaves him perched atop a glass castle.

Peter is the only one throwing rocks-- between the breakdowns in Chemistry class, refusing to see Happy or Rhodey and working himself into oblivion. 

He can see it in his peer’s eyes, their glares telling him that they’ve all had tragedy, _we get it, Peter, you’ve lost your parents and your uncle and your mentor, but we’ve lost people, too, you’re not special--_

He’d never seen more death than on that day after the field trip. First, it was hearing about Quill’s green lady. Then, it was all _Kill Thanos!_. He watched nearly everyone that he was in space with fade to dust before his own body tore itself apart. 

_We didn’t feel anything, Peter_ Ned and MJ had said, _We don’t even remember it._

Peter does, he remembers it every day. He knows that he could feel himself dying, regardless of what the news seems to say. 

But the worst part of that day wasn’t the battle at the compound, or even his own death. It’s when he lost Tony. He doesn’t remember much, he remembers _Activate instant kill!_ and a pegasus and holding all of the universe’s power in his hands. He remembers Tony’s last exhale being _Kid._

No one knows the mad space titan’s name on earth, and Peter can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. The name echoes around in his head, and if he says it, no one knows what he means. 

Astronomy class is different now, too. Before the start of junior year, he told Tony about the electives he was taking. He was the most excited about astronomy - he’d always wanted to be an astronaut. But when you’ve been close enough to touch the stars, when space has been your tomb, it’s not the same.

He likes Mrs. Warren as a teacher, and it frustrates him that he can’t tell her why his interest in one of his favorite classes has decreased so much. He wants to tell her as she starts a video on the projector. 

It’s of some amazing images taken with the Hubble Telescope - something that would have marveled him if he hadn’t seen space with his own two eyes. His eyes have more clarity than any camera ever will.

 _But you said save the wizard!_ He feels himself gasping just like he did on the outside of the Q-ship, running out air-- _I can’t breathe!_

His hands are shaking, the world is spinning. He goes to grab the desk, to steady himself - but if he did, the desk would be turned to splinters. Anxiety makes his head rush, and there’s nowhere for that energy to go.

He’s steering the ship with Mr. Stark, crashing through the stars. His stomach lurches-- until he feels a grounding hand placed over his own.

Peter looks toward where the hand came from, and finds MJ staring back at him.

“You were floating,” she whispers. 

Peter swallows and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

She turns her head back toward the screen, but doesn’t remove her hand from his. 

“Thank you,” he whispers back at her, and she gives an affirmative nod, the light from the projector reflected in her eyes. 

**x**

He doesn’t go home after school - it’s always late nights or early mornings. It’s not like after Ben died. 

He’s not going out to patrol - changing the world is what Tony called his nighttime activities. He can’t change the world if he can’t put on the suit. And whenever he puts on the suit, he can still feel the grime from Titan coating his body.

Because of his enhanced body, Peter needs to be moving constantly. He supplements the exercise he needs with some time in the gym. Working out isn’t the same as patrolling, but it gets rid of the boiling blood in his veins.

Lifting weights is too easy - he could lift all of the weights in the building at the same time, so lifting the bar and a few plates wouldn’t do a thing.

So, he runs. He’s distantly aware that he’s going too fast for someone who is unenhanced, but he doesn’t care - he’s got way too much energy to burn. 

He likes the way it feels in his legs because it’s so different from swinging. Running burns and tingles, and when he really gets into it, each breath sears his throat. He gets into a trance when he runs around the indoor track at the gym - he needs to run inside it’s way too cold outside for his freaky genetics to handle.

It smells like sweat and rust where he goes to work out - it’s just a run of the mill gym, after all. But for as much as he bashes the people in Brooklyn, they do have a nice, quiet, clean rec center.

When he runs, Peter relies on his spider sense to tell him about pedestrians or obstructions in his way. But right in the thick of things, right as he’s straining himself, he clobbers into someone.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry,” Peter heaves, doubled over.

“Peter?” a familiar voice asks, “What are you doing here?”

Peter’s heart stops beating. He’s avoided Rhodey all this time. By avoiding Rhodey, he avoids the memories that follow him like ghosts.

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m working out.”

“You and I both know that anything that you do here has no effect on your strength or even your fitness level.”

“Well, uh yeah, but--”

“Come back to my place. It’ll probably be better for you to talk to someone rather than exercising until you pass out.”

Peter blinks at him. He doesn’t want to go to Rhodey’s apartment - but then Rhodey smiles at him, and it reminds him of _before_.

His mouth betrays him. “Uh, sure.”

**x**

“Would you like a glass of water?” Rhodey asks, unlocking his front door.

“Uh, sure.”

“Do you want anything else?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Is that going to be your answer to everything?”

Peter smiles. “Uh, sure.”

Rhodey chuckles at him, tossing his keys on the table before heading over the fridge. Peter had been here before, in passing. It’s a quaint little place that feels very homey for how simple the layout is.

Pictures line the walls, and there seems to be no theme. They’re from every time and place - Peter can even see a few that feature himself.

He sits down on a barstool and leans over the kitchen island, Rhodey across from him. He slides him his water.

“So, Peter. What’s been going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he says too quickly.

Rhodey sighs and rubs a hand on his head. “I think that we both know that isn’t true.”

Peter holds the glass, the condensation feeling nice on his clammy hands. His eyes dart around the room, landing on a particular photograph, one from Christmas a year ago. Or five years ago, he guesses.

That picture rips his heart in half. It used to be the three of them against the world - Tony promising to teach Peter how to drive, Rhodey begging to let Peter to let him have his first drink when he turns twenty one with the trio.

Tony would never teach him how to drive, and it would never be the three of them with Peter for his first drink. He’d never meet Peter’s kids - children that would be like his _grandkids_ \- or even Peter’s wife.

There are so many more nevers than there are evers. Tony grieved Peter longer than he ever knew him. Peter will grieve Tony until the day he dies.

Before he knows it, cold rushes all over his hand and glass pierces his fingers.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to-- I could never--”

“I know, Peter,” Rhodey says gently. “I know.”

He takes Peter’s hand in his, using tweezers from the bathroom to pull the glass out. Rhodey wraps a bandage around Peter’s hand and then sighs.

Peter looks up at him. “You know, Tony used to take care of me like that.”

“I know,” Rhodey says. “I know. And I wish that he was still here to do that. But you’ve gotta make do with what you have. You should go back out on patrol.”

“How’d you know--”

“Do you think Tony would leave without any way of me or Pepper checking up on you?”

Peter sighs. “No. It’s the uh--”

“Baby monitor protocol,” they say at the same time. Peter gives a watery chuckle.

“I know it’s hard. But Tony wouldn’t want to see you living like this. The first step to healing is a _routine._ Promise me that you’ll start to take care of yourself.”

Peter sits up a little straighter, wiping his nose. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/icymapletree)


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